Never Enough Bling
by K8Malloy
Summary: When Kurt and Rachel leave on a touring Broadway show, it leaves Blaine and Finn to manage the competitive dancing schedules of their three kids: Everett and Amelia Anderson and Anastasia Hudson. Fearless Dance Dads. Well, maybe not so much on Finn's part.
1. Chapter 1

**Saturday, March 10****th****, 2:12pm - At competition:**

"BUT WHERE ARE THE BLACK JAZZ SHOES, FINN! And why isn't her hair parted over her right eye?"

"That is her right eye," Finn argued, frantically tossing aside costume pieces in his quest to uncover the missing black jazz shoes.

"No, Finn, HER right eye," lectured Blaine, grabbing the costume pieces Finn was throwing left and right and shoving them into an oversized ziplock bag. "Not the right side of her when she's facing you."

Closing his eyes, Finn dropped his head back against the wall - hard. "What the hell am I doing here, Blaine?"

Dropping the plastic bag into Ana's costume bag, Blaine fished for the ziplock containing Ana's first costume of the competition and thrust it in Finn's hands, knowing that's where the shoes were.

"I told you, you should just take a picture so you'd know what she's supposed to look like when you're done with her." Blaine walked behind Anastasia and pulled the bobby pins holding her bun into place, tossing them onto the table as she hopped in place, slipping her sweaty feet into the tight leather shoes. Within seconds, Blaine had unrolled the bun and was yanking a comb through her heavily sprayed and gelled hair in order to put the part in the correct place.

Tears rolling down her face, Ana cried out, "OW! That hurts Uncle Blaine!".

"Sorry. I'll be done in a minute," he said around a mouthful of bobby pins. Quickly creating a smooth high ponytail, Blaine snapped the bun maker back into place, and hurried to roll her hair back into a proper bun, jabbing the pins back into place. Applying the heavy duty hairspray, he looked up just as the dance teacher peeked into their dressing tent.

"We need Ana and Everett now," the teacher said in a rush.

"Take 'em," Blaine breathed out, "they're ready to go." When they'd left, Blaine began laying out the costume pieces for their next routine. "Finn! We've got eight minutes between this routine and the next and Ana's changing tights, shoes and her hairstyle. Ev can change himself. I'll do her hair, you need to help her change. Hand her the pieces in order: tights, leotard, skirt, socks, shoes, vest. Got it?"

Finn paled and prayed he didn't pass out.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** _Four years ago I officially became a 'dance mom' in the world of competitive dance. No, my life is not worthy of a television show because we don't roll with that kind of drama. That said, it's been an eye-opening learning experience from day one. It can also be very difficult to be a parent of little ones at these events – I can't enter the male dressing room, but my six year old son is too old to come into the girls' dressing room with his sister, but too young to change on his own. There are no "family" dressing rooms. As a writer, I have wondered what life would be like for a dad who needed to change his daughter because there was no mom in the picture. How did Rachel Berry's dads handle things?_

_Clearly this is an A/U future fic. _

_Blaine and Kurt have two kids, Everett (11) and Amelia (9); Finn and Rachel have one daughter, Anastasia (8)._

* * *

><p><strong>Saturday, March 10<strong>**th****, 7:04am – Anderson Household:**

"BlaineohmygodthankgodyouansweredRachelleftmeanotebookfilledwithdirectionsbutIcan'tfinditandIdon'tknowhowtodoAna'shairorwhattopackandI'mtheworstdadontheplanet."

Blaine pulled his cell phone away from his ear and checked for a second time that it was Finn who was calling. Wiping his hand down his face, he gingerly placed the phone back next to his ear and tried to project calmness and serenity.

"Finn?"

"Yeah, Blaine?"

"_Hiiii_. You know it works much better for the person you're calling if you actually put spaces between your words and pause at the end of sentences. How about you take some deep breaths for me and start over. _Slooowly_," Blaine exaggerated the spacing of his words, hoping it would help Finn calm down.

"You sound like Kurt," Finn pouted.

"It's a side effect of being together since we were sixteen," Blaine shot back.

"Do I ever sound like Rachel?"

"Finn! Concentrate. You called me for a reason, and as much as I'd like to chat with you about how we all start to act like our partners a little too much after time, I have to get Ev and Amelia to the dance competition."

Finn sighed loudly over the phone. "That's why I called. Rachel left me a long list of things I needed to pack and bring and hair stuff and shoe stuff and I don't know where I put it and I don't know what I'm doing and I'm the worst dad, like, ever."

"_Shit_!" Blaine muttered under his breath. "Finn? Put Ana on the phone for a minute."

When his eight year old niece came on the phone, Blaine tried to keep the stress from bleeding into his tone. "Ana, honey? Did your mom pack for the competition before she and Uncle Kurt left on tour? Or did she really leave everything for your dad to figure out?

"Everything's ready to go, except me. Daddy didn't know how to do my hair and I can't flat iron it by myself. But she did put everything into the roller bag."

"What are you wearing?"

"My tan tights, a black tank top, and my team warm ups."

"Okay, Sweetheart. Put your dad on the phone again, please." Blaine could hear the scratching as the phone passed hands. "Finn?" He waited for the grunt of acknowledgement before laying out the plan. "You need to put the dance bag – the one on wheels that looks like a suitcase, but was four times more expensive, into the back of your Tahoe, put Ana in the backseat, and drive over here."

"I think I can do that," Finn muttered.

"Well, you better. I can't help get Ana ready over the phone," Blain said with a shade more annoyance in his tone than he'd normally allow. But this hitch was going to completely switch his plans for a calm morning before the controlled insanity of the weekend's competition.

Hanging up the phone, Blaine stared at the black roller bag he'd been double checking when the phone rang. All four of Everett's costumes and all three of Amelia's hung on the rack that popped up out of the frame. Glancing at the master spread sheet that included all the information on routine, costume, tights, shoes, accessories, makeup, and call times, Blaine finished checking Amelia's last costume.

"Everett! Amelia! Are you done with breakfast?" he shouted from the guest room, which doubled as the safe space for all things dance to be stored between competitions and conventions.

The pounding of multiple feet echoed down the hallway, before the dark brown curls of his son and daughter appeared in the doorway.

"Yes, Daddy," they answered in unison.

Smiling warmly, Blaine mentally went through his checklist one more time. "Amelia, I'm going to have to do Ana's hair when she and Uncle Finn get here, so let's go style yours right now. Ev – I need you to put the roller bag into the car and yours and Amelia's duffles … then you can watch TV. Be sure to listen for the doorbell."

"'Kay, Dad."

Dropping a hand onto his daughter's shoulder, Blaine steered her into the bathroom for her transformation.


	3. Chapter 3

**Saturday, March 10****th****, 7:46am – Anderson Bathroom**

Blaine slid the eyelash adhesive deftly across the back of the plastic packaging, leaving a thin trail of glue, before blowing on it lightly. "You dip the eyelash into the glue, not too much, otherwise it will look a mess. Like this," Blaine offered, showing Finn how much glue he'd placed on the eyelash. "Then Ana will close her eyes and look down at the floor. Work from the inside of the eye out, placing it as close to her natural lash line as possible. Open, Ana."

With a critical eye, Blaine checked the alignment of the fake lash before handing the packaging to Finn. "Your turn."

"WHAT?!" Finn exclaimed, making for the door.

Kicking the door shut, Blaine stood in front of it shaking his head slowly. "Teach one. Do one. That's the rule. You've got to learn to do this – or the moms will eat you alive. They resent anyone who won't learn to do this on their own, and some of them already think that we shouldn't be there because we're guys. And the teachers don't have time to handle it – so hurry up and give it a go so we can finish her makeup and leave."

When he was certain that Finn wasn't going to try to bolt, Blaine picked up the comb and went to work separating Ana's hair into sections – one for the French braid that went from ear to ear in the front, and the rest that would end up in twin buns behind her head, one on top the other. Thank God Kurt had made him practice this style on Amelia until he could do it without issue.

"The black hairspray just helps you style it – it doesn't actually hold it in place, so don't ever just use that. This purple spray," Blaine held up the second can, "will hold it in place once you've got the complete style – but for competition, we then have to finalize with the yellow can – which pretty much shellacs everything into place."

Jabbing the last safety pin into place, Blaine picked up the yellow can and applied a heavy coat. "Don't touch the spray while it's drying or you'll get bubbles." Placing all three cans into the side pocket of Ana's duffle bag, Blaine turned her so he could assess Finn's application of the fake eyelash.

"Not bad, Hudson. A little high on the end, but I think we'll leave it." Picking up the eyeliner, Blaine made quick work of penciling in a thick black line on both her upper and lower lids. "I know it looks hideous up close, but it needs to be dark and bold for it to be seen from the audience. Just like Rachel's stage makeup."

It took another three minutes before Blaine had Ana's makeup finished. Placing everything into her duffle, he zipped it up and handed it to Finn. Opening the door, he strode out to the family room where his kids quickly shut off the television and stood.

"Picture for Daddy and Auntie Rachel?" he asked, waving Ana over to stand with the other two. In their dance team's sparkling uniforms, the kids smiled excitedly at Blaine who promptly sent the pictures to their missing parents and grandparents.

"Okay Team Anderson … And Team Hudson. Let's do this," Blaine said, clapping his hands together.

Following the kids out of the house, Blaine swore he heard Finn mutter something about wanting to be sick.


	4. Chapter 4

**Saturday, March 10****th****, 9:24am – Lobby of Convention Center**

"Let me explain this – _one more time_ – more slowly," Blaine seethed, forcing his inner diva into a corner. "I **can't** go change my daughter or my niece in the girls' dressing room – because I don't have the requisite girl parts. They're 8 and 9 – therefore too young to change themselves."

"Well maybe one of the other moms-"

Blaine didn't let the adorable young woman finish her thought. "_Right_. Because they're not busy with their own daughters. **No**. **Not** a solution. My issue is – I _know_ our team director made sure you knew – maybe not you," Blaine made a point of glancing at her nametag, "_Susie_. But that the directors of the competition knew that my kids were coming with their _two gay fathers_ – and therefore, needed a separate changing space. A **_family_** changing place. Frankly, I don't care who we share it with. My kids aren't bothered by body parts. But other people are, so in trying to be mindful, we _always_ make prior arrangements. Therefore, if _you_ can't find us a place to change, please go find the person who _can_. I'll be right here, standing in front of your cash register, until you do."

Glancing over his shoulder, Blaine offered a tired smile to Finn before locking eyes with his son, gesturing with his head for Everett to join him.

"Grab your small jazz costume and find the boys' changing room. Then find Maya. The girls are probably in the upstairs changing area."

"The one with the windows?"

"That's the one. Have Maya text me when you're with her and I'll text her where we end up so you can find me to change again."

A throat clearing drew Blaine's attention. _Susie_ had been replaced with _Daniel_. "Sir, could I ask you to step aside so I can help the other people behind you with their purchases?"

"You could ask, Daniel, but my answer is a decided 'no'." It was quite obvious Daniel hadn't expected Blaine to refuse to move. Shrugging unapologetically as other parents sighed dramatically behind him, Blaine smirked.

"Mr. Hummel?"

Blaine turned towards a man about his age, dressed in a dark suit and tie. "Mr. Anderson. Mr. Hummel is my husband," he explained, holding out his hand, shaking the other man's hand firmly.

"Mr. Anderson, I'm terribly sorry for the confusion. We did receive your request for changing space, and if you'll follow me, I'll walk you back to your room. I'm Ben, by the way."

Striding over to where Finn and the girls were standing, Blaine took the handle of the rolling suitcase his children shared, and gestured for Ben to lead the way. Blaine was familiar with the layout of the convention hall, having attended several dance competitions and other events in this particular location. Ben was leading them through the long hallway that led to the side and back stage area. Soon they were standing to the side of a staircase that led to the second story of the building, waiting for twenty or so tap dancers to carefully make their way down the metal steps.

"We found a small dressing room in between the four larger dressing rooms. It's right next to the two rooms we designated for the boys' changing rooms. My only concern is that it's really small," Ben explained, silently offering to take Ana and Amelia's bags for them as they climbed the steps.

Navigating the hallway to the dressing rooms was nearly impossible. Just wide enough for two people to pass shoulder to shoulder, it was packed with dancers who needed to stretch or practice, and parents frantic to make sure hair, makeup and costumes were performance ready.

By the time Blaine pulled up to the single person dressing room, Ben was having a heated conversation with two dance moms who had apparently removed the 'reserved' sign from the door and taken over the space.

"I'm sorry, but you'll need to find space within one of the other dressing rooms," Ben explained firmly.

"There's no room," one of the women shot back, continuing to work on her daughter's hair.

"You'll need to find space within one of the other dressing rooms. Whether or not you 'saw' a sign that clearly stated this dressing room was reserved, you need to pack up your things right now," Ben continued calmly.

"Isn't possession nine tenths of the law?" asked the second mother snidely.

"Well, I'm not sure about that," Ben commented, glancing back at Blaine and rolling his eyes. "But what I _do_ know for sure is that refusing to cooperate with the competition director, _which would be me_, **is** grounds for disqualifying your entire team. Not just _your_ children, but their entire **studio**. And I happen to know that Revolution Dance Studios registered just shy of two hundred dancers for 60ish routines. So, Ladies, should I go find Ms. Denise and let her know that the Revolution dancers can go home? Or will you be relocating?"

The two mothers grumbled under their breaths as they slammed the costumes, makeup and cans of hair product back into their bags and shoved their way through the crowded hallway. It might have been unintentional but 9/10ths of the Law's bag, hooked over her shoulder, somehow ended up slamming Amelia in the eye, nearly knocking her down the staircase. Only the sharp reflexes of two older dancers saved the 9 year old from a particularly bad fall.

Picking up his sniffling niece, Finn glared at the retreating women, yelling out, "What an amazing example you're setting for your kids." Passing Amelia over to Blaine, Finn encouraged Ana into the small dressing room as the first mom came tearing back up the hallway.

"Excuse me?" she shriked.

"No," Finn growled, turning so he was blocking the entire hallway with his broad form. "You slammed your bag into my niece, nearly knocked her down the stairs, after acting like you own this place. No apology. No concern. Who the heck do you think you are? Because you're not the one out on the stage – your kid is. You're not the one with your name on a billboard. So how 'bout you drop the diva act. I don't even put up with that from my wife anymore."

Sighing, Finn turned and stood in the doorway of the dressing room. "The next time Rachel and Kurt get an offer for a touring show … it better not be during competition season. They owe us."

Snickering, Blaine knelt on the floor and began unpacking the duffle bags containing the hair products and make up they would need for the day's competition. "Kurt promised us a ten-day cruise to Alaska." Glancing up, he smirked. "And the kids will be at Camp Burt and Carole."

"I hate you," Finn muttered without heat.

"You love me, because you couldn't do this without me."

"I thought we were bros, dude."

"Oh, we are. Who else could you call to help you with this? Exactly. Now start unpacking."


End file.
